


new follower: applepi

by Setkia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Blogs, Childhood Friends, M/M, Slow Burn, Volleyball Dorks in Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8390212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: Welcome to Scattr, a free online website where you can make your own personal blog and share your interests with others!Do you want to create a new blog?Yes.Please name your blog.Idiot AnikiNew blog “Idiot Aniki” has been created.Aniki is so stupid!Hello there! I’ve created this blog because I simply can’t take the way my older brother reacts to his best friend. My brother is a volleyball player and he’s the captain of the middle school team. He’s really cool, but he can be a real dork sometimes. He has a best friend who’s one year younger than him, who he’s totally in love with.I can’t watch them go around in circles all the time so I’ve created this blog to talk about my stupid aniki and how he’s totally in love with his best friend. Maybe it’ll do him some good?Kuroo Sakura looks over her shoulder quickly to make sure no one’s there. Taking a deep breath, she presses “post”.You’ll thank me later, Tetsu.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't own Haikyūu. I felt like it was about time I came up with a Kuro/Kenma story because I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, THEY'RE JUST SO ... Tell me it's not just me who thinks Kenma sounds sexy as fuck when he talks? But anyway I'm gonna give you some backstory cause it's kinda necessary. This story spans over the course of 6 years. When I say slow burn, I mean slow burn. But if you like slow burn as much as I do, you'll live. It starts off with Kuro in his first year of high school till Kuro's last year in university. So there's kinda a prologue and then there's an epilogue. Don't know how many chapters it's gonna be, and chapter length may vary, but yeah, I hope you're willing to buckle down for the ride. Also, the blog which Kuro's sister creates exists. I made it. It's on tumblr, called Idiot Aniki. This is based off an idea I heard from someone who said that Kuro has a little sister who is Kenma's age. There's not much on Tumblr yet since it's new and all, but I'm managing. Anyway, moving on! I hope you guys enjoy and please comment! Credit has to go to queenkazma who gave me the idea. So translation: it's dedicated to her. Also, a lot of these pairings are appearing much later on in the story.

**Welcome to Scattr, a free online website where you can make your own personal blog and share your interests with others!**

**Do you want to create a new blog?**

_Yes._

**Please name your blog.**

_Idiot Aniki_

**New blog “Idiot Aniki” has been created.**

Aniki is so stupid!

_Hello there! I’ve created this blog because I simply can’t take the way my older brother reacts to his best friend. My brother is a volleyball player and he’s the captain of the middle school team. He’s really cool, but he can be a real dork sometimes. He has a best friend who’s one year younger than him, who he’s totally in love with._

_I can’t watch them go around in circles all the time so I’ve created this blog to talk about my stupid aniki and how he’s totally in love with his best friend. Maybe it’ll do him some good?_

Kuroo Sakura looks over her shoulder quickly to make sure no one’s there. Taking a deep breath, she presses “ _post_ ”.

_You’ll thank me later, Tetsu._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Haikyūu. Here's the first chapter. Also ... angst ... there'll be angst. And fluff. Crap, I'm gonna go and add that to the tags now.

Year One

April 

**KUROO**

I don’t know what to do with myself. 

I’m usually spending my time on volleyball or Kenma. My routine is made up of coming up with different plays and bugging Kenma between classes until I pull him away from whatever game he’s playing during lunch. 

It’s the weirdest feeling; knowing that Kenma’s not somewhere in the building with me.

The beginning of the day goes without much excitement. The most fascinating thing that happens is I meet some one who is even shorter than Kenma (which is pretty amazing since Kenma’s so short). 

During lunch I text him and pray today’s one of those rare occasions when he chooses his phone over his PSP. Maybe he’ll play _Tetris_?

** I hope you aren’t being anti-social without me there. **

I wait, because what else can I do? I lean my head back in my chair, prop my feet up on my desk and notice the short boy. He’s upside down in my vision. I think his name’s Yaku? 

_ … _

I laugh loudly and everyone stares at me strangely. Kenma says my laugh’s weird.

** I’m only joking. What’re you playing? **

_Nothing_.

I raise an eyebrow.

_ I’m texting you, remember? _

I try to stifle my laughter this time but it doesn’t work and instead I think I sound even weirder. It’s some sort of weird choking sound that’s mixed with a snort. That Yaku kid is judging me heavily. I’m taller than him. He’ll learn not to mess with me.

I glance around the room. I have time to go somewhere else if I want, right? There’s like fifteen more minutes left till the end of lunch.

I leave the classroom and head to the roof. The wind runs through my hair at an odd angle. Kenma says I need to stop sleeping the way I do, but what does he know? Besides my hair isn’t that long right now, it isn’t too much of a bother. Just kinda … looks like a bird’s nest. Don’t tell him I think that.

I pull out my phone and dial Kenma’s number on reflex. It’s the only number I’ve actually memorized.

“What do you want, Kuro?”

I can admit I relax almost instantly when he says my name. I think I’m smiling a bit stupidly, but whatever, that’s normal when you’ve been friends for a long time and are forced to separate.“Just wanted to hear your lovely voice,” I say jokingly. I hear a snort. “Kenma … did you put me on speaker?”

“Maybe …”

“Goddammit!” And yet I’m smiling. “Sakura, I’m gonna tell Mom—”

“That I’m hanging out with a friend? You don’t own Kenma, Tetsu!”

I swear, these two are the main reason for why I get headaches from time to time. “Are you at least somewhere private?”

“Why are you calling?” asks Kenma, avoiding the question. There’s not too much background noise. Maybe that means he’s also on the roof? He doesn’t like being with people, I know. Something weird happens to my stomach at the thought that we might be standing in the same place right now. Almost like he’s next to me.

I remember Kenma’s question.

Shit. I need a reason.

“Wanted to tell you I’ll be home late, gonna try out for the team.”

“You’re such a volleyball nerd, _aniki_ ,” says Sakura with a giggle.

“Hush, you,” I reply. “Anyway, what teacher do you have this year?”

Turns out Kenma has my old teacher. Sakura hates it since her teacher keeps giving her the stink-eye. I may have fooled around a bit in his class, and perhaps built a not-so-positive reputation with him.

Sakura leaves because she’s worried about being late. She tells Kenma that she’ll tell the teacher he’s in the bathroom or something and tells us to hurry up. 

“Take me off speaker,” I tell Kenma. I trust that he does.

“So … Lonely without me?” I tease.

He doesn’t answer.

I wait, but he’s silent. His end of the line is so quiet, if he weren’t breathing, I would think he hung up. 

The bell rings and he still hasn’t given me an answer.

If he had asked me, I would’ve answered immediately.

“Yeah, I am,” I say. The wind picks up my words and I leave for class.

* * *

 

**KENMA**

* * *

 

I’m red. I’m sure he’s turned me red. 

I’m frozen with his question.

“Lonely without me?” 

He isn’t serious. He’s joking, I know he is. But still …

I remember one of the worst years was Kuro’s first year of middle school, when I was still in elementary. I hated it. Everything around me reminded me of him, like he was right beside me but when I would look, there’d be nothing but air. It’s like that now. I don’t like being around people, I don’t like _people_ , I don’t like company but I don’t mind Kuro’s.

His sister is here with me, yeah, of course, but at the same time she’s not the same. 

I didn’t tell Kuro, but I spent all day staring at my phone. 

Not because I was playing a game or anything, but because I was waiting. Waiting for him to text me. 

I step into the gym after school and it’s almost like he’s right beside me, guiding me with a hand on my shoulder like he always does but when I look, there’s nothing.

I don’t know how to deal with the team the way he does, but he’s left me in charge.

Bad move, Kuro.

Kuro’s a leader, he has the extrovert thing going for him, the loudness, and the personality for it. No one will listen to the one he puts on a pedestal if he’s not around.

I’m not cut out for this.

I could quit. Kuro isn’t around to keep tabs on me and it’s not like I enjoy volleyball or anything. I don’t even know why Kuro chose volleyball. He would’ve been good at basketball, soccer, anything really. Kuro’s that type of person. So why volleyball?

I take a moment to breathe and force myself forward.

This year is going to be hell.

* * *

 After practice, Kuro takes me out for ice cream, and every now and then, a new game, to compensate for making me work. He doesn’t have time today, he’s at tryouts.

He’ll make it.

I’m on my way to the parlour before I even realize it, muscle memory. 

When I get to the counter the owner realizes something’s not right.

“Where’s that guy with the bed hair?”

I don’t answer. I can’t answer. I never order. Kuro always does it for me, I’ve never spoken to this man before in my life even though I’ve been coming here for two years.

I leave without buying anything.

I don’t think he likes me very much anymore.

I pause on my way when I realize Kuro probably won’t be back yet.

I call him, just to see.

It rings once. Twice. Thrice.

I hang up.

Kuro always answers on the first ring. He’s just like that. I don’t think he even has an answering machine on his phone, he doesn’t really need one.

This is just natural, how everything’s supposed to go.

New school, new friends, new life.

My time with Kuro is over.

The sooner I accept that, the less painful it’ll be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Haikyūu. I wrote this by hand on my way to school, fearing someone would read over my shoulder.

Year One

April

** KUROO **

Kenma asks me how high school is as I'm drinking. I, predictably, act like the mature high school student I am and begin to choke. Maturely.

“You okay?” asks Sakura. 

Kenma just quirks his lips up a little bit. He’s laughing at me. Such a great friend he is, that’s for sure.

I don’t know why I’m so shocked, but it’s been two weeks since I’ve entered Nekoma and we’ve never directly addressed the fact that I’m no longer in school with him. I guess I shouldn’t be too shocked. I just … maybe I don’t want to face it?

“It’s fine,” I say. “You should apply to Nekoma this year,” I add. 

_Please. I can’t go another year without you. It feels weird when you’re not around._

Sakura giggles into her soup. “The year’s just started.”

I think I’m turning a bit red. “Have you heard about Karasuno?” I ask, changing the subject.

Kenma shakes his head while Sakura claps her hands all excited for story time. Kenma’s acting all stoic or whatever. Would it kill him to smile?

“They’re our rival,” I say proudly, puffing out my chest. Kenma whispers something about how I look stupid that way.

“Never heard of them.”

“They went to nationals a few years ago, they’re from Miyagi. They have this coach, Coach Ukai. He’s rivals with our coach. I think he’s retired now. They called our matches a Battle at the Garbage Dump.”

“Sounds lame.”

I laugh. Trust Kenma to say something unenthusiastic. “But doesn’t it sound cool? Having a rival?”

“If they don’t have their old coach anymore, are they still rivals?”

I think about it. “I mean, it doesn’t just have to be a rivalry between coaches that defines the relationship between schools. The schools themselves could just be rivals too.”

“But whose to say they even make it to nationals again? You might never get to play against them in an actual tournament. What if the coach is so low profile, they can’t even set up practice matches? Miyagi’s pretty far from here.”

“Why are you so pessimistic?”

“I’m not, I’m just a realist, Kuro.”

And somehow I can’t find it in me to be mad when he uses my nickname like that.

I don’t know when it started, but I was “Tetsu” at one point and then Sakura started calling me that and Kenma started calling me “Kuroo.” I miss when he used to call me by my first name, or rather, a variation of my first name. He’s never actually called me Tetsurō. One day “Kuro” just slipped out and we’ve never looked back since.

I guess it makes me happy in a different way that Kenma calls me something else, something different.

Kuro is my name, not Sakura’s, it’s only me who gets that title.

“Aniki?”

I realize I’ve been silent for a bit too long so I change the topic. “How’s practice?”

Kenma shrugs. He doesn’t like talking but when he does his voice takes on a certain tone that I love hearing. 

“Are the others behaving?” I ask.

“They don’t listen to me the way they listened to you,” says Kenma with a half-effort shrug.

I hate when he does that. He just sits there and takes bullshit he doesn’t have to. He’s so passive, he doesn’t bother to react or do anything and they lie to you, you know. When they say that bullies just want a reaction and if you’re still, they’ll get bored and leave you alone. They lie. I’ve seen it. They’ll push you till you crack, anything to hear you scream “mercy”.

“Are they bullying you?”

Kenma shakes his head.

“Are you lying to me?”I know Kenma does that sometimes, to make sure others don’t worry. We’re at different schools now. I’m gonna worry no matter what.

“No.” He sounds honest, he really does. He’s looking me dead in the eyes, unwavering. Eyes of a truthful man.

“Okay,” I say.

I trust Kenma a lot. Maybe more than I should. 

When Kenma tells me to try a new game, even if I don’t like playing games, I’ll do it.If Kenma says not to try the salad, I won’t do it. When Kenma says that the broccoli is good (even if I hate broccoli) I have it. 

But this?

I don’t believe him for a second.

* * *

 

** KENMA **

* * *

 

I lied and Kuro knows.

It’s inevitable, without Kuro to act like a bodyguard of some sort, I’m going to be bullied. I stand out and I don’t know why. I thought about dying my hair last week but decided it was too much effort.

When I walked into the gym, everyone turned to me. The problem Kuro doesn’t seem to understand is that while he seems me as this amazing setter or whatever, not everyone shares his viewpoint. Like, if Kuro puts me in the limelight, they see me in the dark room.

I’m the only third year on the team, of course I’m captain. But what does “captain” even mean when you’re talking about a middle school team?

I got shoved a lot. They wouldn’t listen to me. I mean, I could’ve spoken louder, I guess. But they left me to clean up the net myself.

I haven’t been to practice since.

I don’t socialize. I don’t feel comfortable around other people. Kuro is my friend because he shoved his way into my life. I guess I only gave two friends, Kuro and Sakura and I’m okay with that. I really am.

On my way home, I open my phone and get a text from Kuro.

** Here’s a link: [scattr.com](http://scattr.com) **

I pause.

Kuro is a strange person, someone who, when he sends you a link, you close your eyes, remember your childhood innocence, and regret every life decision you’ve ever made that lead you to this point as your finger makes contact with the link.

_ Welcome to Scattr, a free online website where you can make your own personal blog and share your interests with others! _

This looks harmless.

I’m sure it’s evil.

** Did you get it? **

I roll my eyes and open my front door, slipping my shoes off.

_ It says sent, doesn’t it? _

I can tell Kuro’s laughing at his end.

** Just a place you can find some dorks like yourself. **

I go upstairs and put my bag on my bed. 

_ I don’t need others dorks, I have you. _

I don’t send it. But now he’s probably seen that cursed speech bubble that says someone’s texting which means I have to write something.

_ There’s porn on it, isn’t there? _

Now he’s definitely laughing.

** Whatever, just check it out. **

I make an account. Coming up with a username is tiresome so I just write my screen name on the rare occasions I do PVP battles: applepi. I can always delete it if I want.

I start scrolling.

There’s over thousands of blogs and yes, some of them do contain porn. I ignore those. Since Kuro sent me here, I look up volleyball, just to see what’ll happen. I know he’ll appreciate that.

There are some cool videos, nice receives and pretty amazing wins. There’s a team that uses their teammate’s face to block the other teams’s spikes. I send it to Kuro.

** Knew you’d love it ** , he sends back.

I pause when I see another blog.

_ Idiot Aniki. _

I scroll through it and find myself laughing.

This “Aniki” guy sounds like such a dork.

I press follow.

* * *

 

** SAKURA **

* * *

 

My computer dings.

_ New follower: applepi _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As CinemaSins puts it, "roll credits". Anyway I'm really glad you guys are liking the story! Thanks to:   
> indigostardust: I hope I do it well. I really do love KuroKen.  
> Carrochan: Honestly, I think everyone in Haikyūu is a dork, either a closeted one, or one who just IS a dork.  
> Ainaa: YAY! I love slow burn.  
> AvianDemigod: Hope you'll live to see more chapters.  
> Anyway, hope you guys like the new chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Haikyūu!! Can we just talk about episode 4? TSUKKI, NICE!!!!! Kay, moving on ....

Year One

June

**KUROO**

The first time I let Kenma’s name slip, it’s during practice.

I don't like it the same way I usually do. Don't get me wrong, I love volleyball, I love the feeling of the ball in the cleft of my hand, how in a split second I can change the course and momentum of the ball. I love the sound it makes when it hits the ground, the look on the opponents face when you spot a feint before everyone else and you receive it. I love volleyball.

But it's different without Kenma.

So when the third year setter asks me how I can help him improve because I'm coming close but not quite getting his tosses, I say: “toss like Kenma.”

He stares at me.

“Toss a bit lower,” I say instead and hope I'm not turning too red.

Yaku sits next to me after practice while we wait for our senpais to give us some food. “So …” he says. “You played volleyball with Kenma?”

“Yeah, still do on the weekends,” I say.

“Who is he?”

“A friend,” I say and I feel kinda bad because I think I’ve just said the biggest understatement of my life. That’s like if I said Kenma likes apple pie, or that Sakura enjoys cute things. 

“The one you talk about all the time?”

We’re two months into the school year and before now, I haven't said Kenma’s name, I’ve just been calling him “my friend”. I could be talking about multiple friends, so how is Yaku supposed to tell me I was only talking about Kenma? How does he know I was only talking about Kenma?

“Um …”

“Did he go to a different school?” Part of me is glad that Yaku senses my discomfort and changes the topic.

“No, he’s a year younger than me, he’ll be going to Nekoma next year though. He’ll be the new official setter for sure.” I grin fondly. Kenma’s gonna love it here.

“How long have you known him?”

“Seven years,” I say proudly, puffing out my chest.

“That long?”

I pause.

There’s something negative about the way Yaku’s saying it, like it’s kinda amazing that Kenma’s still around after seven years. Isn’t it amazing to have a friendship that lasts that long? I remember when I was eight and I first met Kenma. I had no idea our friendship would last this long, and if it goes the way I want, it’ll probably last forever.

“Yeah … why?” I ask slowly.

“Do you think maybe he’s sick of you by now?”

I freeze.

_Sick of me?_

“Why … why would he be sick of me?” 

“I dunno, just seven years is a long time. You don’t think he’s tired of you?”

_ Tired of me? _

That can’t be true. Kenma would tell me if he got sick of me, what reason would he have to hide it from me? Besides, we’re friends. Kenma’s never done anything to imply he doesn’t want to hang out with me. But he’s never given any indication that he likes being with me.

“I’m just saying,” Yaku points out quickly. The look on my face must give away my inner turmoil. “I personally would be tired of you after seven years, twenty-four/seven, but I mean, not everyone’s like that. Plus if I was good enough friends with the person I guess I wouldn’t mind seven years.”

But are Kenma and I good enough friends for that? Yaku and Kenma are almost the same height. What if that means something? What if they’re telephonically linked so if Yaku says he’d be bored of me after seven years, that means Kenma is a hundred percent tired of me? What if he just tolerates me?

* * *

When I come back home I plop onto my bed.

I’m not going to freak out about this. We’re friends, right? I trust Kenma. He wouldn’t just be someone’s friend out of pity. Right?

**We’re friends, right?**

Okay, fine, I’m weak-willed but part of being a teenager is being insecure. It’s better to get that awkward stage out of the way during the year that Kenma isn’t around so he doesn’t have to witness it.

_…_

_What’s this about?_

I sigh. Can’t he just answer the question?

**Are we friends?**

_Kuro, why are you asking this?_

**Why aren’t you answering?**

_Cause it’s a stupid question._

I frown. Is it stupid cause we obviously _are_ friends, or is it cause we’re so obviously _not_ friends?

“Tetsu, dinner’s ready!”

Can’t Sakura tell I’m in the middle of a crisis?

“Busy!” I yell back.

My thumbs do a weird dance, hovering over my keyboard.

_Cause it’s a stupid question._

What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

“Stop texting Kenma and get down here!”

I freeze. How does she know that I’m texting him?

And then my bedroom door opens and Kenma’s standing there, staring at me. “Cause I told her,” he answers my unspoken question. 

“How’d you get in here?”

Kenma points at the door with a bored expression. “Your mother invited me over for dinner.”

“But—”

“Come on, she won't let me have any of the dessert without you there.”

It’s apple pie, isn’t it?

I push myself off my bed and ruffle Kenma’s hair, trying to swallow down my anxiety. “It’s getting kinda long, don't you think?” I ask.

Kenma glares at my hand.

“Wanna practice after dinner?”

Kenma shrugs and I panic. Am I not being considerate enough? We usually do what I want. “We don't have to,” I say quickly. Kenma’s eyes widen a fraction. “If you really don’t want to. I’m sure you’re still tired from today’s practice.”

Kenma looks away and nods a little.

“You alright?”

Kenma nods again. He’s hugging himself. 

“Tetsu, Kenma’s here, you have no excuses!” screams Sakura, “And I’m hungry!”

“We should go,” says Kenma in a quiet voice.

I feel like I should push. What, I don’t know, but Kenma tends to curl into himself when he gets uncomfortable. I bite the inside of my cheek. Kenma won’t want to talk about it. At least, not yet. I can respect that. “Let’s go.”

We head downstairs and Sakura’s standing there with her hands on her hips. She’s inherited Mom’s attitude. 

“Took you long enough!”

We sit down at the table and Kenma grabs a slice of pie. He’s pretty quiet, but his eyes light up around pie. It’s cute.

Sakura giggles when I call Kenma cute, but it’s a fact. Same way babies are squishy and adorable, Kenma is cute.

Mom doesn’t comment. She lets Kenma get away with everything. I think she likes him more than her own children.

I look at Kenma, the way he’s trying to hide his smile as he eats his pie.

Kenma would tell me if he was sick of me. I’m sure he’d tell me.

Right?

* * *

**KENMA**

* * *

 

**We’re friends, right?**

I look at Kuro from the corner of my eye. Why would he ask me that? Kuro is usually easy to read, despite being pretty unpredictable. The reasons he goes unpredictable tends to be the same each time and the way he reacts tends to be more or less the same. The unpredictably comes when you don’t know him well enough and you don’t know that Kuro has about five different options for when he goes “unpredictable”. This is something I’ve never seen before. His thought process is pretty simple so I don’t know why I can’t figure it out. 

Of course we’re friends. We’ve been friends for seven years, eight in August.

Kuro is my oldest friend. Others come and go, like the ones in my grade. We’ll probably never talk to each other after graduation. Kuro’s really the only friend I need, his personality gives him the energy of three people.

But more than anything I feel the worst when he mentions practice.

I don’t lie to Kuro often. Almost never. But the situation called for it. 

The longer he’s away from me, the more I lie to keep him from worrying.

I like to think I’m independent from Kuro, but I never realized how much Kuro’s presence affects my life.

The bullies were mostly kept at bay thanks to Kuro since he can be pretty intimidating when he decides to be. 

I haven’t been to practice at all in the last month.

I don’t like confrontation, anyone who knows me knows that.

I notice Sakura watching me as I eat. I don’t know why but she’s really focused. Her eyes flicker from me to Kuro, then back to me. 

When the meal’s over I volunteer to do the dishes because it’s the least I can do after they fed me pie. Sakura joins me at the sink as I’m scrubbing on a plate.

“I’m guessing you haven’t told him?” she asks.

I roll my eyes. As if that wasn’t obvious. “Whatever.”

“You should tell him,” she insists. “I mean it, he could help—”

“I’m not going to make him protect me.”

Sakura crosses her arms and grumbles something about how it isn’t forcing someone if they _want_ to do it.

“Are you going to help?” I ask, gesturing to the plates and other dishes.

Sakura and I clean up in silence while Kuro does … I don’t know what. My phone isn’t ringing, which is weird. Usually it’d be buzzing insistently with texts. I guess he’s got homework. But then again, he doesn’t focus that much when he does his homework. 

When we’re done, Kuro still doesn’t text me so I go upstairs to see him lying on his back, practicing sets against the ceiling. 

“We gonna play?”

Kuro jumps up and immediately grins.

* * *

I toss to Kuro and he jumps. He’s not that much of a spiker, he prefers blocks. That makes practicing together a bit different. I mean, he can spike, but since I don’t, he can’t practice blocks. Instead we just do rallies and he practices receives and aim.

“You’re off,” he says and I freeze. Does he know I’m out of practice? “Ah … I mean …” He bites the inside of his cheek. He does that sometimes when he doesn’t know what to do.

I’m out of practice and yeah, I’m acting weird, but Kuro’s acting even weirder. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. It’s always been me acting weird, unable to talk, having anxiety, Kuro’s always covered for me. I don’t know how he handles it. So I shift my feet and toss to him. He jumps but it sails over his head.

Kuro is not a jumper. I know this. His jumping power, his heighest point isn’t very high when he has to rise to spike, but he’s not even trying. He’s distracted, which is weird cause Kuro’s _never_ distracted when playing volleyball.

“Is … something wrong?” I ask like I’ve seen therapists do in the movies.

Kuro’s eyes widen in surprise. “Huh?”

Which one is older?

“You missed,” I say. I don’t elaborate. I don’t have to. Kuro’s shoulders slump, like he knows what I’m talking about.

“Just … thinking.”

“Do you have homework?”

Kuro nods, to my surprise. “Yeah, just thinking about it.”

I frown. He’s dragged me away from assignments that were due the next day before just to practice. 

Kuro grins sheepishly. “I …” 

He’s lying to me.

I’ve seen Kuro lie to others. He’s very convincing but afterwards once they’re gone, he tells me his real thoughts. He’s never lied to me. I know because when he lies, he flips the way he’s thinking and says the opposite of the way he truly feels. Sometimes, if you know him well enough, you’ll realize he’s contradicting his own personality.

It hurts.

Doesn’t he trust me?

“Do you wanna do it?” I ask. I’m spinning the ball in my hands, fiddling. I don’t know what to do with them when I don’t have my PSP. 

Kuro shakes his head. “I don’t need to—”

“Do it, Kuro.”

He steps back slightly, alarmed by my change in tone.

His shoulders square like he’s ready to say something to retort, but then they fall and he laughs. It’s fake. “Yeah, I’ll get working.”

The scariest thing about having Kuro lie to me is that if I didn’t know him as well as I do, if I hadn’t memorized his every habit, I wouldn’t even know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to AvianDemigod for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter too!
> 
> Carrochan: So I'm to assume that's a happy face, right?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Haikyūu!! OH MY GOD EPISODE 5 ANYONE? Anyway, sorry, moving onwards. Kenma has this little moment of just distraction cause Kuro wears a tie. Is it just me or is he super hot in a tie? Anyway, so thank you guys so much for reading this story, I'm having LOADS of fun with it but the problem is I'm horrible with time. I don't know when all their matches happen, so I'm not sure when the spring tournament is .... Also, I realized the rating may change. But not soon, like, WAY IN THE FUTURE. ALSO NOTE: I have patreon. I got it recently, not sure what I'm doing, but if you guys want me to write YOU a story (specifically, probably a fanfiction), you can text me on Tumblr and we can discuss how it'll happen. Plus just in general, talk to me on Tumblr. I'm lonely. The blog is setkia dot tumblr dot com

Year One

July

**KUROO**

I ask Kenma if I can watch his practice match. My schedule’s opened up and he’s playing against Shiratorizawa junior high.

“No,” he tells me immediately, not looking up from his 3DS.

“Oh, is that _Kid_ _Icarus: Uprising_?” I ask, changing the subject in an attempt to get him to lighten up. He sees right it through it though and keeps playing without even bothering to reply to me. “Why not?” It doesn’t sound like whining I’m mature, dammit.

“Because I say so.”

I’ve invited him to games too, proper games against Dateko and such. I mean sure, we kinda got kicked out of the interhighs, but it’s all okay, we’ll make it to nationals. We’re a decent team. I’ve made it as a regular and I want him to see. I’ve been able to ignore it for the last week, but the feeling I’m pushing Kenma into things remains.

“We suck,” says Kenma.

“Do they need their _senpai_ to whack them into shape?”

Kenma freezes and I watch as Pit veers off course, straight into one of those pinkish eye-monsters that I think suck out your brains. I don’t fully understands the games Kenma plays, but I do know if he just kept aiming at them properly, they’d probably be gone by now. 

“You okay?”

Kenma’s fingers start moving again as the level restarts. “Fine,” he says tightly.

He’s lying again.

* * *

I skip practice for the first time ever and go to Kenma’s school. I peek in through the window and watch the players. They aren’t horrible, though I’ve seen us do better. but then I realize something.

Kenma’s not there.

Some second year setter’s tossing to a first year. What’s happening?

Where’s Kenma?

“Is that Kuroo-senpai?” asks one of the boys.

I’ve been spotted.

I consider running away, but decided that what I need more than saving my dignity from disappearing cause I got caught peeking through a gym window is to know where Kenma is and an explanation as to why he isn’t in the gym. Is he changing? That can’t be it, practice has been happening for over fifteen minutes. Kenma doesn’t take nearly that long.

I open the doors to the gym and it feels familiar and yet it feels wrong at the same time.

“Where’s Kenma?” I ask. I know, I should be polite and ask how everyone’s doing but nothing’s adding up and it annoys me and I need to know where he went, where he is. I don’t feel good, not knowing where Kenma is. 

“Kozume-senpai?” asks Yuki, a second year.

“Who’s Kozume?” asks a first year.

“Who’s Kenma?” I repeat. “ _He’s your fucking captain_ , that’s who he is!”

“Kuroo-senpai, calm down,” says Yuki, holding up his hands to stop me from punching the insolent first year in the face. “Kozume-senpai hasn’t been to practice at all this year.”

I’m mad. Kenma lied to me. I know he did, I knew it, somewhere in the back of my mind that he wasn’t telling me everything but I didn’t think he’d straight-up lie to my face. 

“Wait,” says the first year. “Was he kinda short with long hair? Had cat-like eyes?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” says Yuki, nodding.

“Oh … yeah, I think he couldn’t handle some players’ banter. And he didn’t put away the net right either.” The way he’s talking, as if he’s so much smarter than me, smarter than Kenma, as if he’s been at this school for years rather than a few months. It ticks me off, so much.

There’s silence. I won’t scream. I won’t. I’m in high school, I’m mature, I’m able to forget about it—

“YOU MADE HIM PUT AWAY THE NET BY HIMSELF?!”

“Kuroo-senpai—”

“Don’t Kuroo-senpai me!” I snap. “What did you bastards do to him? He’s not here to be pushed around! He’s your setter! You!” I scream, pointing at the insolent first year. I pick him up by the scuff of his shirt. He’s wearing our uniform. It disgusts me. “Do you know _nothing_ about volleyball? Without a good setter, you have no brain, no control. You think you can play, never mind win, with a second-rate setter like that guy?” I demand, pointing at Yuki. “He’s got the most pitiful toss I’ve ever seen!” I glare at Yuki. “You’re not thinking! You’re not analyzing, you’re just doing what you’re supposed to. Your tosses are pitiful. No spiker can make that toss good, the moment you lack in one area is the moment you fail! You call that a setter? _**YOU’RE SHIT**_!”

The gym door opens and I breathe harshly, barely able to focus on anything other than not hitting the boy in the face. The team’s fallen apart. A setter is the control setter, I’m not so self-centred to think that middle blockers or spikers are as important as the setter, a control tower that doesn’t work? The team won't work. 

Everyone is silent and the only sound I can hear is my own breathing, harsh and ragged. I’m this close to just hitting him when—

“Kuro?”

I freeze and let my hand drop. The first year drops to the floor and scrambles away from me and hides behind Yuki.

“Kenma …”

* * *

 

**KENMA**

* * *

 

Kuro’s here.

Why is he here?

I look at Kuro and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. I’m aware of everything around me, the eyes and the silence that could pierce a lung. I know what’s happening around me but my eyes just focus on Kuro. I’ve never seen Kuro in uniform. He’s wearing a tie. I’ve never seen Kuro wear a tie before. If I go to Nekoma, can I see Kuro wear a tie every day?

“Kozume-senpai!” one of the 2nd years says, grinning widely at me.

Kuro holds out his arm and stops them from coming closer to me. 

The worst part is the look on Kuro’s face.

Betrayed.

I didn’t mean to. Not to him, Kuro is the last person I wanted to upset. He opens his mouth and I think I’m ready to hear his disappointed tone. But then he does something else.

He bows his head and walks past me, silent.

Our shoulders brush briefly and I can’t process it. I can’t speak. It’s only a light touch, but it makes my whole body shudder. I would’ve preferred he yell at me. Why didn't he yell at me? He was opening him mouth to do it so why didn’t he? _Why didn’t you—?_

“Kozume-san?”

I can’t speak. My throat feels clogged up, I can’t make the words come out. I open my mouth and a choking sound escapes my lips.

I take out my phone and am about to type something when I realize I don’t even know what I would say, even if I could speak. Besides, only Kuro gets it when I do this.

“Kozume-senpai?”

I drop my bag onto the floor and pull out the basket of volleyballs. I don’t like volleyball. I don’t find it to be fun the same way Kuro does, but it helps clear my head.

“Let’s play,” I say.

Everyone’s looking at me strangely. I could change into proper gym clothes, I should, there’s a uniform. But I’m not going to. I know if I do, I’ll run. I’ll go into the locker room to change and end up running away.

Kuro may be wrong to have picked up that first year, but he’s right. The team’s shit.

I’ve betrayed him. So I have to make it up to him and the first step is to turn this team into a team again.

* * *

I’m exhausted after practice.

I don’t go home. I don’t go to the ice cream parlour.

I go to Kuro’s.

Sakura answers the door. “Fix this,” is all she says.

I don’t like people and I don’t like being noticed but Kuro … I care about what Kuro thinks. I don’t know if I _can_ fix this, this is a problem we’ve never had before. I stay silent while Kuro talks about his day, or about practice, or about how the team just can’t get the hang of his personal time difference attack. I stay quiet while he talks. It’s never been this way, I’ve never been forced to talk before, Kuro knows I feel pressure when I feel like I have to talk. 

He’s in the same position, tossing the ball up to the ceiling.

I can’t get up the nerve to speak so I watch him. He’s grown even taller since entering high school, just slightly though. His hair goes up in a mess but somehow it looks like an organized mess. His legs are long and tanned, his arms are reasonably muscled and his eyes always have this certain air of concentration. A thought enters my mind.

Does Kuro have a girlfriend?

I shake my head. He’d tell me, right? But Kuro’s been a bit more distant lately. Has he ever been confessed to? My mind wanders so I have to force it back on track, even as the idea of Kuro being with someone else, putting as much effort into a relationship as he does with me, I’ve never seen it before and I don’t know how much I’d like to see him do it for someone else.

“I was coming back,” I manage to say.

Kuro catches the ball and is silent.

“I was going to play today— I _did_ play. After you left.”

“Kenma …” Kuro holds the ball and spins it on his finger, almost as if it was a basketball. He’s doing it because he’s nervous. He’s playing with his fingers, with his hands. He’ll do that sometimes, just play with his hands, make them do something, just to take his mind off something. “Do you like volleyball?”

“Not really.”

Kuro’s mouth draws into a line. “Hmm …”

“But …”

Kuro’s head spins around to look at me and I struggle to find the right words to say.

I _don’t_ like volleyball. I don’t think it’s fun the same way Kuro does. I don’t look forward to games. I don’t take wins or loses in stride or with dignity. What ever happens, happens. I don’t understand a lot of things. I don’t understand why Kuro gets so intense over it, I don’t know a lot of things, even though we’ve been together for seven years, the Kuro I see on the court almost looks like a stranger to me.

Kuro says I’m a good setter because I observe, because I notice things.

I notice Kuro. 

I _know_ Kuro.

I know I skipped a lot of practice, and upsets Kuro. I know Kuro likes watching horror films, but he screams like a little girl when watching _The Ring._ I know he likes to organize his band tapes, but ask him to find a piece of paper and he’ll flip the whole world upside down trying to find it. I know he likes black liquorice, and he’ll let Sakura style his hair. 

I know Kuro loves volleyball, and I know that I love playing with him.

I don’t like the sport itself, it’s the company it brings. Kuro makes it worth it, and without him, playing is weird. I guess that might be another reason I stopped playing; because Kuro wasn’t there. Kuro doesn’t care about big players, like the ones who are spike or the ones who attack, he focuses on strategy. Though Kuro is not the smartest in class, he’s brilliant at strategy. He puts all his focus on the libero, on the middle blockers, on the ones who get all the receives, and on the setter. Because a spiker is nothing without a ball that goes up, a spiker is nothing without a setter. That is something I know Kuro firmly believes. Playing without him, without his sense of strategy, it makes playing pointless. 

“But I like you,” I say.

Kuro’s eyes widen.

“Playing with you … you make it … not exactly fun, but you make it tolerable.”

Kuro states at me. “You … like me?” he repeats.

I nod. Tell me he gets it. I don’t know how to put my thoughts into words. But there’s no reason to worry. I like being around Kuro, it just makes sense that I don’t hate volleyball when I play with Kuro. What else could he think I mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright time to thank the reviewers!  
> AvianDemigod: So I believe the proper term for what I've done is I've made you cry. That, or I've mad you feel emotion.  
> fujoshi_life: May I just first say I love your name? I really do love it. Moving on, I'm a HUGE lover of angst with a happy ending, so yeah ... Almost all my stories tend to contain angst. Well, either that or they're so fluffy, they make your teeth rot. Should that be a tag? Like a warning about getting diabetes after reading a story? Cause my KageHina is very diabetes inducing.   
> Carrochan: Yay for happy faces!  
> Haikyuu Newb: So I was having a really crappy day and then I saw your review, so you really brightened my day, so THANK YOU SO MUCH. I really do take a lot of time to write this and stupid mistakes I don't catch drive me CRAZY (it says Euro and Kenya .... HOW DID I NOT CATCH IT?!) so that you like it really makes me feel good. That you think I'm good is a HUGE compliment and I'm really thankful for it. I try my best and hope that things'll turn out okay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HEY HEY!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> I don't own Haikyūu!! This was a lot of fun for a chapter (not that the others aren't fun). I really got to showcase my humourous way of writing. Some small notes, to be very precise about some things:  
> 1: "Kuro" is a word, not just a nickname. It means "black".  
> 2: Based on the way the Japanese name for Blue Exorcist is written (it's written as Aio no Exorcist, because Aio means blue), "Kuro no Rooster" means "Black Rooster".  
> 3: 'Kuso" means "shit".

Year One

July

**KUROO**

“You … like me?” I echo.

Kenma nods.

He likes me? Like, _likes me_ likes me? I’ve heard about confessions, but aren't those for girls? I open and close my mouth, unable to form a proper sentence. I must be seeing things, hearing things. Kenma ... he doesn't like me ... unless he does.

He's looking away from me, staring at the floor.

It's cute.

Suddenly my mind starts to wander, given the new context. Can a guy call another guy cute in a platonic way? Is the friendship Kenma and I have a bit too close?

I look at Kenma. I can admit he's attractive in a non-suspecting way. He's petit, and his hair is growing longer, providing a make-shift curtain between him and everyone else, which compliments the angle he's looking at me from. It's his eyes that really get to me though, they're so yellow, almost golden. And he's going through voice-cracks as his voice gets deeper. Objectively, Kenma is appealing. He should have a girlfriend.

Wait.

Does he?

No, Kenma would tell me. If there's anything he would mention, a girlfriend would be it.

_ “But I like you.” _

Maybe Kenma doesn't have girlfriend because he likes me?

It kinda makes sense.

I know the sensible thing to do is to turn him down gently, I know that, so why am I hesitating?

“Oh ...” is all I manage to say. 

Do I like Kenma? I mean, if I was a girl, I'd date him. Provided that he'd let me in. Kenma is very hard to approach, and he doesn't open up to many people. Maybe that's why I think of our friendship as something special. But as myself, would I like it if he got this close to someone else? 

My stomach churns, almost as though there's acid. Must've eaten something bad for lunch.

But an answer, it's only logical I give Kenma an answer.

Kenma looks at me, I've been silent for too long. That's the problem with being the noisy friend, you never have enough time to think. I blame it on that when I blurt out “I like you too.”

Kenma's eyes widen, perhaps because he's not expecting that answer, or because we don't usually say things like that to each other.

“Tetsū, I hope you've sorted everything out!”

I look at Kenma.

We’ve sorted out all misunderstandings, right? 

I almost ask if he’s my boyfriend, but I don’t. Kenma’s very reserved about these types of things so I shouldn't use titles so lightly.

But … boyfriend. I like it. I like it even more when referring to Kenma.

* * *

There’s a weird looking guy during training camp. His hair is gelled like a five year old and he’s got enough energy to burn down the building.

“What's with your hair?” I ask.

The boy raises his eyebrow at me from the other side of the net and looks around quickly to make sure I’m talking to him. I don’t know who else he thinks has as weird hair as he does. He’s got weird eyebrows too, now that I think about it. He’s from Fukurōdani, I think. The tips of his hair are dyed white and his eyes are huge.“You look like an owl!” I add.

“Really?” the boy asks, his eyes lighting up.

_ Did I say something? _

He looks at me and tilts his head, approaching the net. We’re between games and the other team is doing warm-up. He grabs the net in his hands and leans forward. “What’s with your hair? You look like a rooster.”

I glare at him.

He doesn’t seem to take the hint and holds out his hand, passing it under the net. “I’m Bokuto Kōtarō, Fukurōdani’s ace!”

A volleyball smacks him in the back of the head. 

“You’re not the ace yet!”

I snicker.

“You’re from Nekoma, right?” He grins. “I hear you guys are great at receives. Wanna try and get my straight?”

My lips quirk into a grin. “Is that a challenge?”

“Is the sky blue?” He looks over his shoulder, his eyes searching for a moment. “Oi, Mizuki! Toss for me!”

I think the setter’s a second year, he’s slightly taller than the dyed haired player, and he’s shying away from him.

“You’re not the captain, you don’t get to make orders!” another one says.

“Just toss to him, or else he won’t shut up!”

Bokuto grins, knowing a toss will be coming. I think he should be more concerned that his teammates are either scared of him, or find him to be a nuisance. “I’ve been practicing this unstoppable straight, you’ll see!”

Is he all talk?

I steady my feet. Only one way to find out.

The toss comes.

Bokuto gears up for it and jumps. His kneepads are ridiculously long, they go so high up. His hand strikes the ball and I move quickly, squaring my shoulders, and—

_SMACK!_

The ball hits my arms and it burns. I grit my teeth at the force of it. There was a lot of power behind that straight. The ball goes up and hits the ceiling, going straight up. That was a bad receive, but an impressive straight. I’m about to tell him so when I realize he’s fallen to his knees. 

“Gwaah!” He runs his fingers frantically through his hair and groans. “He got it!”

_ I’m standing right here, moron. _

“Argh!” His body seems to completely sink into the floor. “ _Kuso_!”

No one seems to know what to do. I stare at Bokuto, unable to find anything to say. Everyone else is just going about their day normally and when a stray practice serve falls right next to Bokuto, the teammate who collects it doesn’t even bothering to check on him.

Well then … playing against Fukurōdani should be interesting.

* * *

They win. It was pretty impressive, actually, watching that straight in action. I’m getting better at receiving it, but it’s still not going quite where I want it to. 

Bokuto seems to be in higher spirits though. He even sits down next to me during the break.

“Hey, that was a nice receive,” he says.

By his slightly disappointed tone, I figure he’s talking about the botched receive of his straight. 

“If by nice you mean shit, then yeah, it was a nice receive.”

“You got it, didn’t you?” He grins. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Rooster-san.”

I blink.

He did _not_ just go there.

“Your straight wasn’t bad either, Owl-san.”

He just seems happy to be compared to an owl, so that did a big load of nothing. I think I’m making a face because then he says, “You’re very strange, Rooster-san.”

“Kuroo,” I correct him because I’m going to snap his neck if he says “Rooster-san” one more time.

“Kuro no Rooster-san?”

I tense. “Don’t call me Kuro.”

Bokuto frowns. “Why not?”

“Because Kenma calls me that.”

“Kenma?” Bokuto echoes.

“Yeah, Kenma,” I nod as if to be doubly affirmative. “Got a problem with that?”

“Who’s Kenma?”

“My bo— best friend,” I chicken out at the last second. “So … just don’t call me Kuro, got it?”

“Yeah, whatever, I don’t get what you’re so worked up over, it’s just a name.” Bokuto shrugs. “Hey, wanna give me your number? Then we could practice together.”

I stare at him. What do phone numbers and practice have to do with each other? And besides “Don’t you wanna practice with your team?”

Bokuto shrugs. “None of them receive the way you do.”

“If you put me as Rooster-san in your contacts, I will murder you before you can perfect that straight,” I warn.

“Wasn’t going to, Rooster- _kun_.”

Does he _want_ me to strangle him?

* * *

 

**KENMA**

* * *

 

“So …”

I don’t look up from my PSP.

“You gonna apply to Nekoma?”

I try to shrug off Sakura’s piercing gaze as she tries to gauge my reaction to her words. Instead, I focus on evading the enemy’s attacks, ducking and dodging. 

“It’d be a good idea,” she goes on. “It’s close to your house, and they have a nice uniform too.” I’ve seen it on Kuro. I hate ties. They’re suffocating. “Plus, since you’re going to practice again, perhaps I should mention they have a great team. I hear the teachers are nice too—”

“From Kuro.” She feigns innocence. It doesn’t really suit her. “Kuro goes there.”

“Does he really?”

I roll my eyes.

Sakura’s trying to sell me on Nekoma like she’s one of those “order now!” commercials on TV.

I’m going to Nekoma. I’ve already decided it, she’s just wasting her breath. Going one year without Kuro is bad enough, it’d be downright stupid to go anywhere else.

I don’t tell her that though. Sakura can be cute when she gets all stubborn.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Ah. Kuroo sass. It’s a genetic trait passed down from generation to generation and it’s still going strong.

“Don’t you have a meeting with the counsellor during lunch today?”

Sakura makes a sound that very closely resembles a yelp (she’ll deny it, Kuroo pride is even more dominant than sass) and rushes out the door like a hurricane.

_Ping!_

I look at my phone. Everyone in the class is glaring at me so I turn it onto silent.

**Do I look like a rooster?**

I raise an eyebrow.

_Why?_

**Just wondering.**

_You ask really weird questions._

**I know**

**So?**

_So what?_

**So do I look like a rooster?**

_What’s this about?_

**Just answer the question.**

_A bit._

Suddenly Kuro sends me a picture of a boy with dyed hair and golden eyes, above which are some of the strangest eyebrows I’ve ever seen.

_Who is that?_

**I’m gonna call you. Get somewhere quiet.**

I roll my eyes. Of course he won’t answer my questions.

I go to the roof to the school and as I’m opening the door to it, my phone rings. I pick up.

There are two people on the other line, I can hear them talking, a bit muffled because of a hand over the phone’s speaker. One’s Kuro, the other … I don’t know it.

“Stop laughing!” That’s Kuro.

“Get somewhere quiet?” says the other voice in between laughter. “Are you going to talk dirty or something?”

I sigh. “Kuro, who is that?”

“Ah! He does call you that!”

“I told you he did!” Kuro snaps. “Now be quiet, you know they don’t want us on our phone during practice!”

I can only assume this guy’s from training camp.

“Your friend’s hair makes him look like a rooster, am I right?” asks the stranger on the other end.

“He looks like an owl, right? That guy I sent you a picture of?”

“When did you take a picture of me, you perve?”

I ignore the guy’s complaint about how that’s an invasion of privacy but now that I think about it, his voice is very fitting for the image on my phone. He certainly is loud, blowing out my ear.

“Yeah, kinda,” I say.

“He looks more like an owl than I look like a rooster, right?”

The weirdest things matter to Kuro.

“Well .. with your volleyball jacket, you look even more like a rooster.” I guess that’s what friendship is, talking about whether or not caging you head between two pillows results in a rooster-like hairstyle.

“I thought it was more of a mohawk—”

“No way bro, I’ve seen mohawks, you’re totally a rooster! Kuro no Rooster-kun!”

I freeze. Did he just call him Kuro?

Who gave him permission to do that? That’s _my_ name for Kuro, no one other than me has ever called him Kuro, it’s my nickname for him, who the fuck gave this bastard —

“Shut up, stop calling me that! It’s Kuroo,” Kuro says and I feel the tension ease and leave my stomach. I don’t know _why_ that calms me down, but it does.

“Aw, but Kenma calls you that!”

“Who do you think you are, talking about Kenma so casually? Of course Kenma can do that! He’s special!”

Shit.

“What are you boys doing outside the gym?

I don’t really hear it as Kuro’s phone is taken away. I hear a bit of a scuffle as he tries to get it back, but ultimately it is confiscated.

_ “He’s special.” _

Why am I turning red again?

Sakura finds me like that, frozen and red. She’s smiling, like she knows something I don’t as she drags me to class.

* * *

When Kuro goes to training camp, it’s even worse than him being at a different school. When he goes to Nekoma, he comes home at the end of the day (at odd hours, yes, especially when there’s practice but he still comes back). I eat dinner at his house a lot. We play some video games, Kuro always loses and we play a bit of volleyball. But he’s still around. Contrary to popular belief, people don’t just _stop_ contacting someone they go to separate schools with. At least, if they do, Kuro is making a hell of an effort that we don’t lose contact (though we live across from each other so it’s not really like it's that hard to do it). But while he’s at training camp, I don’t see him at all. It’s the longest week I’ve ever endured.

It takes Kuro three days to get his phone back. And then he goes and gets it confiscated again when he’s calling me at night and talking too loudly about this awesome receive Yaku made, so it’s gone for four days and that’s the end of it. I’ve never gone this long without some kind of contact with Kuro of any form since before I knew of Kuro’s existence. 

I hang out with Sakura since she doesn’t seem too eager to let go of the whole going to Nekoma thing, but it’s not the same. I miss Kuro. I’d never tell him, since we just don’t do those sorts of things, but it’s really weird. It’s like I’m missing a limb and I’m just not functioning the way I usually do.

* * *

The first thing that happens is the sound of thundering footsteps, then the door to my room swings open and then I’m being pinned against my bed and Kuro’s hugging me.

I take a sharp intake of breath.

This is … different.

But not entirely unpleasant. 

I’m not a huge fan of touching people. I know Kuro’s a very touchy person but I’ve never really been one of those types so I just kinda bear with Kuro’s wandering hands (hand on the back, hand on the shoulder, sometimes he even insists we hold hands when crossing the street) but this time, Kuro’s warmth, his heat, it feels comforting. Maybe because I’ve gone so long without it.

I can feel his breath on my cheek, his surprisingly long eyelashes tickling my skin.

“I missed you,” he breathes.

I freeze.

Kuro and I don’t say those types of things to each other, as I’ve mentioned. We imply a disliking towards lack of contact (I sound too technical, don’t I?) but we’ve never outright said it. And he’s never hugged me for so long before either. 

He really _is_ warm. _Really_ warm.

“Kuro …” I don’t know what to say. I’m not good at speaking but part of me wants to tell him I miss him too since he’s already said it, surely I can do that too, but my words get caught in my throat.

He pulls away but he’s still so close, I can feel his breath. He cages my head between his arms. They’re shaking.

He’s nervous.

Why?

“Kenma …”

Suddenly, his elbow gives out and he collapses on top of me. I can’t breathe with his weight on me and the sudden jolt of the bed because of the extra weight suddenly exerted on it causes the mattress to bounce and I hear something hit the floor.

I can’t breathe for another reason.

“Kuro … was that my PSP?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thanks to Carrochan for reviewing. So ... was there enough humour/kinda fluff? And also, YAY! BOKUTO-SAN!  
> And AvianDemigod: I just kinda imagined Bokuto saying "Bro" but anyway, that aside. I'm really glad that you liked it! I doubt you were in actual tears, but anyway, your review is always appreciated and liked!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Haikyuu. Started watching Yuri on Ice, was behind on Haikyuu by 2 episodes, saw episode 10 a day after I saw episode 10 of Yuri on Ice, and as a Tumblr post put it, this week was amazing: I got Vikturi and I also got victory. AND I played in a volleyball competition in my school and won all 4 games, so I also got personal victory. So the reason for the sudden time-skip is cause I realized the quarterfinals are during September .... sorry about that. Sorry for the sudden silence as well, I'm just juggling school work and also getting back into the One Piece fandom AND exams are coming up soon.

Year One

July

**KUROO**

The PSP is fine. Not even a little cracked.

Kenma turns it on and it works perfectly, having not fallen from a big height. The benefits of being short is a lower bed I suppose. Or maybe there’s no correlation. So yeah the PSP will be fine, it was always going to be fine.

I on the other hand may be a tomato.

Kenma wipes the screen with his sleeve. I’ll try not to be offended, I think we were having a moment there, and now he’s just taking care of his video games. It’s not that hard to understand his perspective, games have always taken priority in his life. Games are nice. Games don’t leave you. 

I bite my lip to hold back an awkward apology (and trust me, despite my smoothness, it  _ would _ be awkward) so now I’m just standing here, trying not to be awkward while eating my own mouth. 

This could’ve gone smoother.

I wasn’t kidding. I really did miss Kenma. Not being able to contact him, I just kind of assumed I always could. I was wrong. 

It was weird, being without him for so long. I think I drove Bokuto insane. After a gruelling week like that I don’t know what to think or how I even survived the first eight years of my life without him. I learnt one thing though; I gotta learn to hide my phone better.

I was kinda hoping Kenma would tell me he missed me too, but I don’t blame him. Saying it was hard. It felt like my throat was constricting and I couldn’t breathe.

I dig my heels into the carpet as Kenma quickly checks the battery. I watch him walk back and forth as he makes sure the software didn’t get damaged. He’s just playing  _ Monster Hunter  _ now.

I tell him I’m going to properly say hello to his mother and suddenly, everything I’ve done hits me at once.

I ran from dropping my bags at my house over to his quickly, ran up the stairs to his bedroom without even saying so much as a “hello” to his mother, I tackled Kenma into a hug before I even  _ looked _ at my own little sister.

My face is red.

I stumble into the Kozumes’ kitchen, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Oh, you’re back Kuroo,” says Kenma’s mother. “Kenma must be glad.”

I laugh. It sounds as if I’m choking.

I feel as if I was better at this before the whole dating thing happened.

“Have fun at training?”

“Yeah.”

_ What does it even mean to date when you’re this old? _

“Make any friends?”

“Yeah.”

_ Do we kiss? Hold hands more? _

“Win any games?”

“Yeah.”

_ Do we go out to eat together? Do I need to pay for his share? _

“How was the weather?”

“Yeah …”

_ Shit. I have to pay, don’t I? But I’m broke! _

“Got a girlfriend?” 

“Yeah.”  _ What if we just stayed in and watched horrible, low-budget movies? We could do that, popcorn is like 345 yen. Wait … did she just say girlfriend?  _ “No, I mean, no!”  _ Did I zone out? I totally did, din’t I? _ “I don’t have one.”

Kenma’s mother ruffles my hair and grins “I figured.”

Wait. If she figures I don’t have a girlfriend, does that mean she knows about me and Kenma? I thought he didn’t tell anyone!  _ Okay wait, calm down, breathe deeply and don’t freak out. _ “What do you mean?” She probably doesn’t know. Yeah. I’m overreacting for no reason.

“Well you spend all your time with Kenma—”

_ SHIT _ **_SHE KNOWS!_ **

“—so you don’t have much time, between Kenma and volleyball. Plus, how many girls go to a boys volleyball training camp?”

_ So she  _ **_doesn’t_ ** _ know? Make up your mind woman!  _

I need to calm down I’m reading too much into everything. Not everything has to have a double meaning.

Kenma comes downstairs.

“Do you wanna play?” he asks.

I grin.

Kenma and I are fine the way we are. 

“I’m sure Kuroo’s tired after a week of training and playing non-stop—”

“Let’s go.”

Kenma’s lips curve a little.

He’s smiling.

* * *

 

“So … did you and Kōtarō have fun?” asks Kenma as he sends the ball to me.

I falter. “Kōtarō?”

“Yeah, Kōtarō.”

“You mean Bokuto,” I say slowly.

“No,” Kenma says, shaking his head. “I said Kōtarō.”

I think I’m frowning. I sure feel like frowning. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” asks Kenma. The ball sails up but I’m too focused on getting a proper answer that the ball hits my forearms wrong and hits the fence. It falls to the ground uselessly.

“Call everyone by first name.”

“I don’t call you by your first name.”

I know. Believe me, I know. “Why do you do that, too?”

Kenma shrugs. “Why do you call me Kenma?”

Why do I call him Kenma? I know at my age, you don’t just call people by their first name. It doesn’t happen. When you’re a child, still in junior high, it’s still acceptable to call someone by first name, but once you’re in your teens, you call them by last name. Mom doesn’t call Kenma’s mother by her first name. Why do I call Kenma Kenma? I shake my head. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s my thing.”

“Well maybe calling you Kuro is my thing.”

I can’t really say anything to that so I don’t.

“Are we going to continue?” asks Kenma, reaching for the ball.

I nod. “What’s for dinner?”

“Fish.”

I don’t know why, but I like it this way. How I don’t have to ask if I can stay over, it’s implied that I will, generally understood, and Kenma just goes with it.

It doesn’t feel any different from what we usually do. We still do what we usually do, but it doesn’t feel as weird when I bump against him or touch him in general. I don’t really know how else to describe it, but it’s different and yet somehow it’s the exact same.

* * *

 

September

* * *

 

It’s a huge deal this game, it’s the quarterfinals, and we’ve made it this far. I really do wish Kenma was here, I want to show off. I want to show him how strong we are, how good of a choice it would be to come here, to Nekoma. And besides trying to persuade him towards a specific school for next April, I want to show him how much I’ve improved.

My receives have gotten even better and even if my time difference attack hasn’t been worked on as much (it seems it works best with Kenma) I still have a lot to show for.

It’s their serve, the score is 19 to 22, us.

The ball goes up, and I race forwards. My eyes zero in on the ball, it’s going rather high, who’s to say it goes over? And then I see him. 

There’s Kenma, sitting right there next to Sakura, staring at me intently.

I freeze.

And then-

_ BLAM _ !

* * *

**KENMA**

* * *

 

I came to a game and Kuro gets hit in the face by the ball. Of course that’s how it works.

I can’t help but snicker though, even if a part of me is concerned about Kuro, another part of me just finds it rather funny how he just completely zoned out. We had a moment, a moment where our eyes connected and he acknowledged me just as much as I acknowledged him and then the ball went to him and he got smacked right in the face.

_ Pay attention, baka. _

“Is he going to be okay?” asks Sakura.

“He’ll probably walk it off,” I say but I’m sure she can hear the nerves in my voice. I grip the railing in front of me. I think it’s cause I’m with family members of one of the players on the court, but we’ve got pretty good seats so I’m able to watch as Kuro rubs his cheek and stands up. A teammate pats him on the back and he shakes his head. They slap him on the back, he lurches forward with the force, wipes his mouth and then stands ready to go again.

Except then the coach blows the whistle and makes a gesture for Kuro to get off the court.

Okay, now I’m officially worried.

I push my way through the crowd to the gym floor and make it to see Kuro being walked off with someone attached to his arm, probably the manager. “Kuro!” I call and he looks up, our eyes connecting. He stays rooted to the spot so I race after him and he waits until I catch up to him.

“Idiot,” I tell him, “keep your head in the game.”

He laughs and then I see it. There’s blood in his mouth and he’s bleeding. How much force was behind that? He grins at me, but there’s blood on his teeth and I grimace at the sight. He frowns, not sure what I’m giving him such a strange look for. He wipes his mouth and then stares in shock as his finger comes back red.

“Shit,” he says and yet he sounds calm. His eyes are bugging out, like he’s not sure how to handle the situation, but the way he speaks sounds lazy almost. That’s Kuro for you, always trying to sound cool, even when he’s bleeding.

“We need to take you to the nurse,” says the manager.

Kuro looks at me and then at the manager. “Can he come?” he asks her.

The manager looks at me with distaste. “Is he family?”

“Practically,” Kuro says with a shrug. “That has to count for something, right? I mean I’m not like, going to be hospitalized, am I?”

Stop talking, I want to tell him. The blood is making him look disgusting, filling up his mouth and he lets out a cough. It splatters onto the floor and Kuro sways for a moment. Stop talking, you idiot! 

“Fine, he can come. We need to have you looked at before we can let you back into the game.”

I follow behind the manager in silence until we reach the infirmary. The nurse asks us what happened and Kuro opens his mouth to speak, but the manager interrupts him and explains it for him. The nurse gives Kuro an ice pack and tells him to wait at least fifteen minutes before he even thinks of entering the game again.

Kuro sits on the infirmary bed with a stupid grin on his face the whole time.

“What?” I demand.

“You came,” he says in a voice that displays bewilderment, as if he can’t believe I’d support him and come to his game.

“Is it that surprising?”

“You’ve never come before,” says Kuro with a shrug.

I suppose that’s true. The reason I decided to come was so that he’d stop bugging me about it, but also because I wanted to come. I was curious and Kuro has improved, it shows in the way he moves and goes after the ball. I came because it’s the quarterfinals and this is something Kuro’s been working towards all year. I came because of many reasons, but mainly because of Kuro’s intense training his visits to see me have been less and less.

I came because I wanted to see Kuro.

I don’t tell him that though. I’d feel weird doing it.

“Stop talking,” I tell him instead. The swelling is starting to ease up, and the blood isn’t as much as before but it can’t taste good, and besides, I know Kuro can be a bit of a wuss when he wants to be. 

“But-”

“Stop talking,” I repeat, rolling my eyes. “Why’d you take your eye off the ball?” I ask, though I don’t want him to answer. He seems to finally get it, since he doesn’t open his mouth to reply. “I got worried.”

Kuro’s eyes widen.

He should know I worry for him, he’s my best friend, it’s hard NOT to worry about him. Kuro’s very good at making people worry at times, and it makes it hard to be his friend at times like these. When being his friend drives you absolutely insane because of his strange unpredictability. I open my mouth and then close it. I don’t really know what to tell him, what I can say.

He smiles at me and I want to shake my head at him and tell him he’s such an idiot, his mouth is bloody, his cheek is inflated, he’s holding an icepack to himself for crying aloud! But I can’t do anything except grin right back.

I think I make Kuro worry about unnecessary things but I don’t think he realizes he can make me worry just as badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thank-yous!  
> CheetahLeopard2: Yup, if you've ever seen my Tumblr, I've got a headcanon that Iwa-chan, Kuro, and Tsuki all hate it when someone other than their childhood best friend calls them by their nickname.  
> indigostardust: I found a Tumblr post that explained it pretty well, something along the lines of, "One kudos is not enough to properly convey my feelings towards this story, let me do more, damn website!"  
> Carrochan: I just thought it would be really funny to do a little play on words and stuff. It wasn't a REAL play on words, but yeah .... Kenma's me. I hate being touched and I get all weirdly skirmish about it. It's the number 1 rule I have with all my friends, you do not touch me and we will be fine.  
> AvianDemigod: Seriously? I don't handle being away from my hands very well, and I have a friendship like Iwa-chan and Shittykawa, or Tsuki and Yams, or Rooster-kun and Pudding Head. I actually kinda fell apart this summer since I was away from all my friends. Wow that was oversharing ... but it made writing that bit easier for me to understand.  
> journeyhah: Heh, well here's the next part. Tada.


End file.
